


Day Thirty-Seven

by TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite



Series: 30+ Days of TFW Imagines [37]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 21:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5513183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite/pseuds/TheLittleRedWhoCouldWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Imagine asking Sam to say "Honey, I'm home" when he gets home because you love the domesticity of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day Thirty-Seven

“Hey, Sam?”

He laughs softly, rolling to face you. “I love how you wait till we're in bed to ask me stuff.” He lifts a hand to brush your hair back from your face. “Yes, my darling?”

You love the way he says “darling,” with just a hint of a Texas drawl. “Can I ask you to do something for me?” you say, placing a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist when his hand moves to cup your cheek.

“I would say I would do anything, but there are some things I wouldn't do for a million bucks. Like mess with Dean's car. Did that once. Never again. So, anything within reason, that isn't likely to get me arrested or killed.”

You giggle. “You regularly do stuff that could get you arrested or killed without any help from me.”

“That is very true,” he says, flashing you that dazzling smile you love so much. “What can I do for you, babe?”

You’re suddenly nervous to ask. “It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Hey,” Sam says softly, stopping you from rolling away. “You don't have to be afraid to ask me to do things. I would never judge you.”

“I know. It’s just something silly, it's really no big deal-”

“Obviously it's a big deal to you. Y/N, if it would make you happy, I’d do everything in my power to help you with it.”

Okay. Here goes nothing, then. “When… when you're out for whatever reason without me and you come back, could you… could you say ‘Honey, I'm home’? I just… like the domesticity of it, I guess. You don't have to if you don’t want to. I mean- mm!”

You love when he uses kisses to shut you up.

“Of course,” he says, pulling back a little. “I’m more than happy to do this for you.”

“Dean will make fun of you for it, you point out.

“Screw Dean- I do not mean that literally.” You laugh and he laughs, too. “Just wait till he finally finds someone he wants as more than a one night stand. Then we'll see who's laughing.”

You smile. “So, you’ll do it?”

“I’ll do it.”

You kiss him firmly. “You’re the best, Sam.”

“I certainly strive to be.”

X X X X X X

The first time Sam says “Honey, I'm home” when he gets back from a hunt, Dean laughs. Loudly. You flush and suddenly feel ashamed, but Sam is right there. He pulls you close to him, shooting Dean a glare that, if looks could kill, would put him six feet under.

“Ignore him,” Sam murmurs, big hands holding your with such tenderness. “He’s kind of a jerk. I’ll talk to him about it. Okay?”

“Okay,” you agree, laying your head against his chest.

Sam thinks you don't know, but flips Dean off behind your back.

Next time it happens, Dean doesn’t laugh.

X X X X X X

The oven timer startles you from your reading. You jump up and run to the kitchen. You pull on the oven mitts and carefully pull the lasagna from the oven.

As you set it on the stovetop, you hear the Bunker door opening and a call of “Honey, I'm home!” Despite Dean's teasing and any initial reservations Sam may have had, those three words have become a wonderful habit that Sam admits he enjoys as much as you do.

You smile, stripping off the oven mitts. “I’m in the kitchen!” you call, pulling plates down from a cupboard. You grab a spatula from a drawer and start cutting the lasagna.

Sam enters the kitchen and sets the bags of groceries on the counter. He comes to stand behind you, strong arms around your middle. “Smells good.”

“Should taste good, too. Wash up and set the table, okay?”

“Okay.” He obediently get to work.

“Aw,” Dean says from the doorway. “Look at you guys being all domestic. So cute.”

“Just you wait, Dean,” you say, laying plates of lasagna on the table. “It’ll be your turn soon.”

“Never!” Dean proclaims. “I don't want to get married, I want to stay single and let my hair flow in the wind as I ride down the highway firing salt rounds into the sunset.” With that, he plops down in his seat at the table and digs into his food.

“Did he just reference _Brave_?” you ask Sam in a whisper.

“Just go with it.”


End file.
